


Of Nations And Heroes

by Lyra_Dhani



Series: Around The World [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: America and Loki have a heart-to-heart talk, Gen, Nick Fury is protective of his country, blink-and-you'll-miss-it brotherly Thor/Loki, blink-and-you'll-miss-it platonic America/England
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-03-14 21:28:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13598754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyra_Dhani/pseuds/Lyra_Dhani
Summary: Loki knew right away that the golden-haired man with bandage all over his body who just entered in wasn’t a normal human. His eyes were blue and knowing, staring at him not unlike the way Odin looked down at him sometimes. It creeped him out. No ordinary human could stare down at the face of immortality like that.





	1. Dominoes

**Author's Note:**

> Hetalia is my current obsession <3  
> The title might or might not be going to change

Loki knew right away that the golden-haired man with bandage all over his body who just entered in wasn’t a normal human. His eyes were blue and _knowing_ , staring at him not unlike the way Odin looked down at him sometimes. It creeped him out. No ordinary human could stare down at the face of immortality like that.

But what really irked him was his smile. Loki looked at his smile and saw the ghost of thousand people. Dead and alive. The smile of Tony when he tried to charmed his way out. The blank polite smile of Borton.  The smile of dead people. And when Loki blinked, the image had gone away, leaving behind a plain man.

“What are you?” Loki asked, his eyes narrowing.

Nick Fury, who had been standing behind the man like some sort of bodyguard (not that the man needed one), tensed a little. If even Fury of all people showed that reaction, this man must be someone really important.

“Well, isn’t that rude?” The man tilted his head, his smile not wavering. It was a little distracting, so Loki focused on his clear blue eyes instead. “After all, you’re the one who have succesfully damaged me like this.”

The man gestured to his bandaged body.

Loki glanced at Nick Fury who seemed getting more tense every second. Judging from his face, this man was someone important, probably even more important than the whole team Avenger combined. The question was, _who?_

“I suppose it can’t be helped,” The man shrugged. “I am Alfred F. Jones. Just call me Alfred.”

The name didn’t ring any bell.

Loki sneered. “Well, I can’t remember every weakling I’ve squished.”

Nick Fury _actually_ glared at him, his eyes promised pain. Interesting. Alfred, on the other hand, _laughed_.

“Leave, Nick,” the man said.

Loki raised an eyebrow. Nick Fury hesitated, His eyes glancing from the man to Loki, then with a final glare thrown to his captive’s way, he left them alone. Once he left, Alfred took a chair and sat down, looking noticeably more relaxed.

“You’re his boss,” Loki said. “The SHIELD’s boss.”

“Not quite wrong.” Alfred crossed his legs. “But not the right answer.”

This was so stupid, Loki reflected. He was a captive in a prison. Not some clown to entertain a manchild who had nothing better to do.

“Aw, come on, the least you can do is getting the answer right,” Alred taunted, sensing his mood.

Loki stood up and leaned in. He looked closer at the clear blue eyes which reminded him of the bright sky he had watched from the Stark Tower. In those eyes, he could see _people_ , dead and alive, the buzzing cities and the humans walking the ground. There were knowledge in those eyes, recording history and the lives of thousand people, untouched by time.

Loki gasped and staggered back. Had he look at those eyes any longer, he would be completely swallowed, devoured by memories. Any longer and he would have gone _insane_.

“America,” Loki said shakily. “You’re America.”

The man laughed, and in it, there were laughs of thousand people, Tony’s sincere laugh before his childhood fading too quickly, Steve’s laugh as his comrades tried too hard to make him happy, Banner’s laugh when he was still whole, full of youth and ignorance.

And Loki, for a moment, wondered if Alfred also cried with the cries of his citizen, the silent tears of Tony when his parents left him behind, Steve’s desperate cries when the world overlooked the ordinary boy from Brooklin, the cries of thousand people, pitiful and sad.

Loki held his head and closed his eyes, too many information swum in his head, spinning everything, the world itself.

“Are you okay?” he heard Alfred, no, the literal goddamn America asked. He sounded genuinely worried. “Geez, that’s what you get for looking directly into my core.”

“I’ve heard about you,” Loki said. Dammit, his voice was still shaking. “Barton vaguely mentioned you.”

It was, Loki had to admit, was his own fault. Barton had warned that executing his plan on America’s region wasn’t a good idea. The super spy didn’t mention what was it that they had to watch out for so Loki dismissed his warning. Barton under the effect of Tesseract would have spilled out the reason and insisted on changing their location. Looking back, even Barton probably didn’t know anything beyond the fact that the personification of his country actually existed.

“Are you here to get revenge?” Loki taunted, as his mind finally cleared and the memories which wasn’t his own fading away.

Alfred laughed again. Loki tried very hard not to flinch. “Of course not! That’s just too cheesy!” His laugh wasn’t unpleasant, but it was the laugh of thousand people. Listening to his laugh was like being trapped in the room of screaming madmen.

Not unpleasant but very annoying. Merely being near him made Loki felt like he was getting absorbed by his life force.

“No, Loki, I just want to clear up some misunderstanding,” Alfred grinned. He leaned closer, blue eyes gleaming. “Are you _my_ enemy?”

And in front of him, Loki could deceive and lie. If he was suicidal, Loki definitely would.

“No,” Loki said. And for the life of him, he couldn’t remember the last time he said a simple truth.

Alfred nodded, satisfied. “Good. Who knows, maybe we could be friends.”

He couldn’t possibly know about the big threat that was lurking in the corner of galaxy, but his smile was as sincere as ever. American Dream, Barton once said, when he tried to explain the thing they would woke up when Loki started his grand plan. This man who was as old as Loki was, or possibly older, yet still clinging to the concept of humanity.

Just like Thor.

 “You’re so naive,” Loki spat out, venomous. “What made you think that you can live forever with just your group of dysfuncional heroes protecting you? The end is coming and you will die with the rest of your people.”

The irrational rage came out of nowhere. Alfred was calm, though, his smile unchanging. “They’re not dysfunctional. They’re imperfect but that’s what I love from them.”

“They’re broken,” He sneered. “They’re falling apart.”

“They’ll get back up again,” he sounded so sure with his own conviction. “Besides, isn’t it time for you to get back up too?”

Loki frowned. “Are you encouraging _me_?”

“Well, there’s just so much a brother can take,” Alfred winked. “To be honest, I get what it feels like to seek for acknowledgement, but aren’t you taking it a little too far?” Then his eyes dulled, his smile sharpening as he said, “Memories can be really painful but at one point they’re the reality.”

His blue eyes, when he looked at him said, _Stop running away_.

“I know that,” Loki gritted his teeth.

“Great,” Alfred got up. “It’s so nice talking to you, Loki.”

“Wait,” Loki called him. Alfred paused at the doorway. “Do you think I am going to regret it?”

“I don’t know,” Alfred answered, sincere as always. “I don’t regret it. Never. But unlike me, your existence and the lives of your beloved ones are delicate. A snap of fingers and everything will fall down. That’s right, like dominos.”

With those last parting words, Alfred stepped out of the room, leaving Loki alone in his prison cell. His back was broad and unflinching, just like Steve’s. Like Tony’s when the man wasn’t trying to be as obnoxious as possible. Just like Banner’s. It was probably the back of thousand people supporting each other, not running away, never averting their eyes. Human had faced many obstacles, spitting on their fate and crumbling in despair. Some would give up but it was still a small numbers compared the ones who still stood up and crawled under the sun.

Loki exhaled. It was a miracle he was still alive.


	2. Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I actually don’t hate thorny roses,” Alfred said, cheerful.

Being one of the most influental person in America, Tony got the priviledge to meet the personification of his country before he was ever the Iron Man. He didn’t know what America actually did beyond fooling around in the parties but Tony knew about the golden-haired man better than Natasha, who only heard the rumours, and Barton, who only had an inkling of what he actually was, and that certainly said something. Even Steve and Banner didn’t know even though Tony was certain they probably had seen him before and aware to certain extent what kind of being he was. Alfred (or so the nation wanted to be called when he was outside of ‘work’, whatever that was mean) always showed up when something big happened, big enough to make an impact on the country.

The point was, Tony was one of very few people who understood America’s existence, thus the only one in his team who get what it meant when Nick Fury said that the SHIELD along with FBI was bodyguarding Alfred F. Jones who ended up in hospital after the nation was found among pebbles and rubbles. It was a miracle he was still alive, the doctor said. The doctor then added that America’s existence was a miracle itself so perhaps they didn’t need to worry.

But looking at America, covered with bandage from neck down to toe and lying in the hospital bed, Tony was reminded on how close they were to lose their shit off.

A miracle.

It was indeed a miracle that the New York hadn’t just got wiped out in front of his eyes. And honestly he wasn’t sure the Avenger would be as successful in another big rescue mission like this the next time dangerous aliens tried to invade Earth again. Next time, it wasn’t just about Loki. Tony could tell that something else was behind all this, something bigger, probably the biggest threat they would have to face off. The thought kept him awake for nights.

“You’re okay, Tony?”

Tony snapped out of his thought. He rubbed his eyes, “I am not okay, but don’t mind me. I generally don’t feel okay when I am sober.”

Alfred was smiling, but his blue eyes were watching so carefully. For all his easy-going attidue and cheerful disposition, there were instances when Tony was strongly reminded that the childish man with obnoxious laugh was actually the United States of freaking America. This was one of those times.

Tony stood up. He put down the bouquet of roses he bought on the way to the hospital.

Alfred held the bouquet tenderly, his smile softened. “Ah, rose. Beatiful. But deadly.”

“They’re high-class roses. And I’ve made sure to buy the ones without thorns.”

“I actually don’t hate thorny roses,” Alfred said, cheerful.

The next morning, Tony sent him another huge bouquet of high-class roses. With thorns.

.

.

“Why would you say that?” Tony asked.

Alfred looked up from his smartphone. “Say what?”

“The bullshit you say to Loki.”

“Oh, that,” Alfred looked back to his smartphone, continuing his game. He shrugged. “No reason, really.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Whose acknowledgement do you seek for, Alfred?”

The nation paused. Then he smiled, the same tender smile he had when he spoke of rose and thorns. “That’s a secret.”

“I don’t expect that of you.”

“Everybody has a secret, Tony,” his eyes flickered. “Even you.”

And even though his voice was light as usual, the one who spoke to him right now wasn’t the childish and annoying Alfred he knew. It was the great America which had witnessed wars and the worst side of humankind.

It made Tony feel uncomfortable. “That’s not what I am talking about.”

“You’re losing weight,” the golden-haired man said, and this time it was Alfred speaking.

“I am as fabulous as always,” Tony couldn’t help but relaxed. “And don’t try to change the subject. I am too smart for that.”

Alfred hummed. Then unexpectedly he said, “How about this? If I tell you who it is, you also tell me the things you’ve seen in that portal.”

“No deal,” Tony said immediately, his palm sweating.

“You have to tell someone eventually.”

Tell someone what? That the great Tony fucking Stark was losing sleeps (and weights, apparently, on top of that) and was badly, like really badly, traumatized? No, Tony could fix this. New York was rebuilding and everything would be fine.

Oh, boy, here it started again. Tony calmed down his breathing, his mind was in chaos, he needed to do something, if only everyone just fucking shut up-

“Tony!”

Tony flinched. “I am fine,” He held his head, his mind spinning. “You’re so fucking loud. I need a drink. And my suit. Yeah, that sounds nice.”

“Get your shit together,” Alfred said, frowning. “Man, you’re worse than I thought. How’s Pepper?”

“She’s fine.”

And the thought of Pepper safely home in his house, armed with heavy guard and thight security, promptly calmed him down. But it also made him wanted to bolt there right away. And, oh, Tony really needed to make new Iron Man suit. It would be colored with red and gold. People would like that.

“Wow, look at that. It’s already this late,” Tony forced a smile and got up. “I’ll take my leave.”

He pretended his hands weren’t shaking.

.

.

The next time Tony came to the hospital, he wasn’t the only visitor. Alfred was talking to a blonde man when Tony stepped inside. No, not talking. They were arguing.

“But, I am fine, see?” Alfred said. It was the first time Tony heard him sounded desperate.

“You call this _fine_?” The blonde man said, gesturing to Alfred’s bandaged body. He shook his head, exasperated. “What the hell are you thinking, taking that army of alien all by yourself? You haven’t changed at all. Still so naive and weak.”

Tony was ready to back up Alfred (it was his country that this stranger insulted, after all), but the stranger stormed out of the room before Tony could open his mouth. Alfred followed him, his face determined. He didn’t even notice Tony standing in the doorway and calling his name. That expression on his face was familiar. It tugged something in Tony’s memory, something from his childhood-

Oh.

So that was the guy whose acknowledgement Alfred seeking for.

 Tony didn’t see what was so great about that guy, though.

.

.

“He’s England,” Alfred said when Tony asked about it. He was looking at the roses Tony had brought and put in a vase ( _the thorny ones_ , Tony couldn’t help but noticed) as he answered fondly. “The one who found and raise me.”

Which meant that England was basically a parental figure for America. That explained why the way Alfred looked at England reminded Tony of his past, the fading childhood which he thought had vanished completely. Once upon a time, Tony seek for an acknowledgement too. A child wishing to be praised. To be _recognized_.

Tony rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling awkward for some reason. “He sounds like a great guy.”

Alfred simply grinned. Then, out of nowhere, he asked, “How old are you, Tony?”

The billionare raised an eyebrow. “Old enough to get drunk early in the morning without anyone lecturing me. Why?”

“The last time we met, you were still so small. Do you remember?”

The last time they met, it was his parent’s funeral. Tony didn’t remember much honestly. But he did met Alfred, pale and standing still.

At that time, looking bitter and regretful, Alfred murmured to little Tony, “I am sorry, I can’t interfere with human’s life. They don’t deserve this tragic fate.”

Right now, using the same bitter tone, Alfred said, “Now, you’ve all grown up.”

“And you haven’t changed at all,” Tony said. Still the same energetic foolish man who dreamed a little too big and saw too much. Time couldn’t touch him and nothing in the world could change who he was.

“I am proud of you.”

Tony choked.

“I haven’t had the chance to say this. You ran away before I could tell you when you first visited me,” Alfred patted his back. “You’ve done a great job, Tony Stark.”

It shouldn’t affect him. It really shouldn’t.

“I-” Tony cleared his throat. “Of course. I have always been doing a great job.”

Alfred laughed. A beautiful cheery laugh. For some reason, listening to his laugh reminded Tony of thorny roses.

Beautiful. But, deadly.

.

.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and the warm comments guys! I can't update as often like before since I got into college but you guys always managed to pull me back and remind me the joy of writing fanfiction


	3. Coffee

“Howard actually had to get my permission to make you what you are now,” the golden-haired man said. It was a very information piece of information.

It sounded less important when the man who said it was chewing burger with his mouth full.

It didn’t make the man any less ordinary, despite sitting in the ordinary caffe, wearing ordinary clothes, eating his lunch like an ordinary american man.

Though, upon closer look, it was obvious that the man was anything but. He had unforgettable face, rare blue eyes, and the aura that came out of him, it was.... _unusual_.

“What do you mean?” Steve fidgeted. He tried to appear as casual as possible, but he couldn’t help it. Something about this man was alerting his instinct, even though he spoke like an old friend and seemed genuinely nice. There wasn’t so many people around Steve who had such a bright smile like that and he honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had seen one.

And yet his super instinct was tingling, screaming warnings at him.

Considering the man before him wasn’t human, Steve knew better than to believe that the golden-haired man was as defenseless as he looked.

“England once told me that name hold power. Took me a long time to realize this, but he’s actually right,” America beamed at him. Steve instinctively sat up straighter when he noticed it was a smile full of pride. “Tell me, now, Soldier. What are you?”

It hit him then. “Captain America.”

“Exactly. I still remembered the day Howard excitedly told me about a superhero who would bear _my_ name,” America laughed, reminiscing. “He didn’t need my permission actually. It was just an excuse to get my full attention.”

That really sounded like Howard.

“And here you are,” America grinned. “My hero.”

Steve couldn’t help but grinning back, feeling proud of himself. And here was America, his nation, his country, calling Steve _his_ hero.

The grin faded as soon as it came, however. Steve put down his drink, then looking straight at his nation’s eyes, he asked, “Am I doing the right thing?”

“Yeah, that’s the big question, isn’t it?” America said lightly, still having that bright goofy smile in his face. “Or is it really?”

It would be nice if his nation could always be so carefree like this, instead of worrying over another alien attacks.

It would be nice if Steve could protect that smile forever.

“Sometimes I am just....” Steve faltered, not knowing how to express this anxiety, this nameless fear stirred in his heart. “ _What am I_?”

 The weak kid from Brooklyn? The soldier? Steve Rogers? Captain America?

Steve knew who he was, of course. He never faltered. He always knew what he wanted, knew what he thought was the right thing to do.

And _yet_.

“Then it’s fine, isn’t it?” America said. He was still grinning but his eyes were sharpening, looking straight at him seriously. “Name hold power, Captain. You have the determination to do so. And that’s fine. Even though everyone told you what you’re doing is wrong, you know what you want and you will fight for it, even the world itself.”

“And it’s fine?”

America’s smile softened, his gaze gentle. “Will you stop if I tell you it’s not?”

Steve thought about it. “No.”

“Then, it’s fine,” America nodded. He sounded satisfied.

 “I...” Steve closed his mouth, then opened it again. “Thank you, sir.”

“Call me Alfred.” His nation winked at him.

A waiter came to their table then, bringing America’s coffee.

“Now,” America, no- _Alfred_ said, picking up his drink. “Tell me how you’re holding up in twenty-first century, Steve Rogers.”

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, when I started writing this, I have tons of idea in my head begging to be released to the world. I really want to include Scott Lang, Starlord, Hulk, Spider-man, Strange, and a whole lots other superheroes but if I don’t end it here this story might just end up being abandoned and I don’t want that. Anyway, Happy Holidays, guys. I love y’all.


End file.
